Willie Colon was an explosive source of energy who took salsa to the stratosphere music

WEli Colón, who has died in New York aged 75, was good at many things: Nuyorican salsa player; Puerto Rican star; Actor in Mexican soap operas. An activist, and later, a reactionary in New York politics. These are just a few of the countless accomplishments of a musician who always seemed in a hurry to move on, write new music and get into a disagreement with a colleague. Salsero Or political opposition. Colón was a source of energy, a musician who was as loud and energetic — and sometimes infuriating — as the city in which he lived and died.

While to New Yorkers—Puerto Ricans living in New York—Colón was a legend, to many Anglo New Yorkers he barely registered, some perhaps noticing him because he played with David Byrne during the singer’s forays into Latin American music. He was nominated for ten Grammy Awards but never troubled the US Top 40, yet he was arguably the most celebrated brass player of the past six decades, winning the Latin Grammy for Musical Excellence in 2004. Colón was to salsa what Elvis Presley was to rock ‘n’ roll – the gritty teenager whose loose, fast, rough interpretation of the music he heard in the streets helped create a genre that grew to become dominant Latin dance music.

Born in the South Bronx and raised by his Puerto Rican grandmother, Colon first learned the trumpet, then switched to the trombone, using that instrument to shape the sound of salsa, just as JJ Johnson did for jazz and Don Drummond for ska.

Latin boogaloo music was the big sound in the Bronx when Colon was growing up, but by the time he was 16, he and his friends were playing faster, more rhythmically complex Latin music, drawing from Cuban son and Puerto Rican singers and informed by jazz, funk, and rock (a fusion he described as “Jabberwocky swing”). Signed to Fania Records, an emerging independent Latin label, vocalist Hector Lavoe, another teenager of Puerto Rican heritage, joined Willie’s band and the sound they created proved revolutionary.

Colón’s debut album, 1967’s El Malo (The Bad Guy), had a raw, dynamic feel that reflected a Latino generation that now began referring to themselves as “Nuyoricans.” “El Malo” sold 300,000 copies – a huge number for specialized music sung in Spanish – and not only in New York and Miami, but also in Colombia and Venezuela. As the Cuban Revolution ended Havana’s dominance as the capital of Latin dance music, New York became a center for new, streaming Latin music. And Colón, the 17-year-old star, whose album covers often focused on a gangster image, would become a salsa cult following. Its look and sound have upset the mambo kings, but, as in all genres, the new must break away from the past.

In 1968, Colón was one of the founding members of the Fania All-Stars, a salsa supergroup that could fill stadiums. Joined on stage by the likes of Billy Cobham and Manu Dipango, they played alongside other African-American artists at a concert in Zaire organized to celebrate the heavyweight title fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman in 1974. In the same year, Colón teamed up with Rubén Blades, the Panamanian singer-songwriter, and the duo went on to lead an explosive band that took salsa music to places it had never gone before, with Blades’ lyrics commenting on the issues. Social and the United States. Imperialism in Latin America. Their 1978 album Siembra received widespread critical acclaim and sold over 3 million copies – and is widely considered the best-selling salsa album of all time.

The two men had an on-and-off working relationship, and both moved into politics—Bleedes unsuccessfully ran for president in Panama, and Colón unsuccessfully ran for public office in New York—until 2007, when they entered into five years of litigation (which Colón ultimately lost). By then, their musical and political interests had split, with Colon, who performed at Bill Clinton’s inauguration, becoming a staunch supporter of Donald Trump.

It doesn’t matter: his best recordings are among the best salsa recordings. It was salsa to which Colon devoted his life, writing: “Salsa is not rhythm. It’s understandable. An open and constantly evolving musical, cultural, social and political play concept“.